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\ both are obsessive ?

the room was spinning. he can't decipher at this point if it's thanks to euphoria or if he's out of breath. doesn't matter. ( doesn't matter. doesn't matter. ) he almost laughs at the hilarity of the situation. look at him. bound and pliant to whatever mikey was doing. 
          
          but oh - 
          
          oh ~ !
          
          for shame. he'd wanted this in the first place. / asked / for it even. mikey was doing everything sanzu lead him to do, and it's really filling to see how mikey still thinks he's running the show.
          
          when. he's. not.
          
          / sanzu / wants this to happen, and mikey was the one falling into place. a chess piece. the / king /. it's giving him such a thrill to be put in such a position; playing god behind the scenes yet witnessing mikey grow into the ruthless bastard he wants him to be. 
          
          he twists his wrists, testing just how tight mikey tied him. impressive. can't expect any less from him.
          
          the way his jaws ache, the trail of saliva down his neck from the side of his mouth, the fucking way mikey had been looking at him like he's filth... it's all... so... / addicting. / maybe he'd test his luck by fucking up again - see if mikey decides to use a gun on him next time. now / that / would be a show.
          
          he doesn't beg to be released and instead - he moans for mikey to tighten his grip. 'more' is what his half-lidded eyes said. if his mouth could move, his cat-like grin would have curled by then; pushing mikey further. taunting. playful.
          
          'do it.' he'd say. 'take my life and show me just how low you see people's lives are.'
          
          ﹕@Tokyo-Manjiro 

he's seeing stars. there's a fine line between his immense worship for mikey and being a willing subject to the other's rampant, heartless beating, and right now, it was teetering near masochism as he moans when mikey's foot is shoved in his mouth.
          
          nevermind the dirt and the salty taste all mingling on his tongue, but he feels his eyes roll at the back of his head, closing his lids as he starts sucking; hands grabbing hold of mikey's ankle as he lathers his toes with his tongue.
          
          it's nothing but worship sprinkled with masochism and lust. he's obsessed. garnering mikey's approval, but also wanting nothing but to bring the worst out of him. 
          
          ruthless: that's how he wants mikey to be. not some forgiving, weak-willed manchild that ryuguji set him up for. what the hell was all that pampering for? they were a gang. respect begets respect, and sanzu wasn't going to sit here and watch one of the most powerful men he's met to be watered down to something like that.
          
          he places kisses along mikey's foot, opening his eyes then to see if the latter was pleased. 'is this enough of an apology for you?' his actions speak just as his tongue darts out again to lick a strip along the pad of mikey's foot. 'does this please you?' is what his eyes ask, glazed as he tries his best to stay conscious. 'is this what you want?' he moans, taking his time to worship.
          
          because it's what he's supposed to do.
          
          because it's what he was / meant / to do.
          
          ﹕@Tokyo-Manjiro  

it was bound to happen. he wouldn't consider mikey to be short-tempered but with him? oh with him ~ ? the noise at the back of his throat is almost purring; instinctively, his hands reach to his nose to press it down. ( no use making a fuss about appearances. )
          
          the throbbing pain only increasing as he shifts to sit up. the smile he makes almost comes out as a wince, but / god / he's thrilled. he succumbs to the high of the pain; his light-headedness might not be a result of a concussion but frankly, he doesn't care.
          
          he doesn't care.
          
          he spits out the crimson that trickled to his mouth, his ever-present smile now glazed in red. with a quick swipe of his thumb over the skin just beneath his nose, he ends up licking it clean. "have you gotten soft with me, mikey?"
          
          his head lolls to the side, humming. calculating. his perception is dulled by the hit on his head, and he suspects he'll pass out soon if he keeps this up. "you wouldn't have stopped even if i was already on the floor." 
          
          ﹕@Tokyo-Manjiro 

he was hoping for something bigger - something a bit more than this dejected excuse of a scolding. his lip curls into a grin, his earlier reaction long forgotten as he wraps his calloused fingers around mikey's wrist. "pull harder if you want your dog to listen to you."
          
          it starts with a tickle in his throat, the laughter bubbling out of him as if all of this was nothing but mere games - though he forces himself to a stop; the smile never leaving him just as he licks his lips while staring at mikey dead in the eyes - leveling him with a gaze that taunted his status.
          
          ﹕@Tokyo-Manjiro 

ITS GONE FOR SOME REASON BUT????